


Do!

by spacego



Category: Gokusen (Manga), Trick (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, F/M, Post-Canon, Sawada Shin's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacego/pseuds/spacego
Summary: Sawada Shin excels in his studies, despite sleeping in class during the day, serving as bait at goukons during the night, and rendezvous-ing a high school teacher some weekends.Now, only a couple more years stand between Sawada Shin and the "scary world of adults". That's two more years (or less than three) of non-dates, of meeting suspicious people, and soul-searching... (in fifteen fragments)





	1. Fake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izilen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izilen/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!
> 
>    
>  _This story contains minor elements of Gokusen live-action series, as well as elements from Trick series. I try to keep it so that minimal or no prior knowledge of either is necessary, but just in case, please see notes and footnotes below._  
>   
> 
>  **Notes & References:**  
> [Story #2 Prompt](http://bookofstars.tumblr.com/post/151757005457/gokusen-yuletide-prompt), part of Izilen's DYW [post](http://bookofstars.tumblr.com/post/151631998847/dear-yuletide-writer).  
> Story title and chapter titles, from _Do!_ by Depapepe ([album tracklist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL40A590A7BAC15B70), [band's profile](http://www.sonymusic.co.jp/Music/Info/depapepe/))  
>  _Gokusen_ manga, english scanlation version.  
>  Overview of background, characters and setting of [Trick (series)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trick_\(TV_series\))
> 
>  
> 
> This fic also comes with a separate file containing [B-Roll](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800) supplement; basically: drabbles, snippets, character studies and where all the notes and commentaries are located. Alternatively, click on the underlined words to get to specific items.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0100) for additional stories: Sawada's School Blues, and Professor Ueda's Story.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

Uetsugi Ritsu smiled stiffly when a bowl of pork ramen was placed in front of him. Sawada had invited him to a graduation celebration at a place owned by one of Sawada’s delinquent high school friends. All of Sawada’s friends were there, rambunctious as only blue collar workers could be.

He had asked his Aoyama cohorts to accompany him, just so that he would not be alone in the bear’s den, but only Hayashisaki agreed (and it was only, mostly, out of curiosity).

Now though, he was left sitting by his lonesome in a corner, once Hayashisaki had abandoned him after two mouthfuls of cold soba. It could be that Hayashisaki was much more of a snob than Uesugi had credited him for. But then, Hayashisaki had cited “curfew” insistently, which might be true also. For all his bravado, Hayashisaki was a mommy’s boy through and through, Uesugi thought.

Sitting alone, however, had its advantages. Unable to have a life of his own, he had since learned to live vicariously through Sawada Shin, and he was completely content with shameless eavesdropping most of the time.

It wasn’t just any graduation celebration, though. It was _their_ graduation celebration; he and Sawada had pushed through their four-year undergraduate course in [three](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0101). Uetsugi Ritsu had felt unbearably smug when the results came. For three whole years, he had been trailing behind Sawada, but in the end, he managed to pull away and win by two points. He had the best scores in their year (well, second best, after Onitamagawa Sayuri; but everyone thought she’s not exactly human anyway).

Secretly, Uesugi felt his victory to be pyrrhic. Especially when he remembered that Sawada had slept through class during the day, gone to goukons with those delinquent high school friends of his during the night, and dated that violent high school teacher of his some weekends.

Two measly points suddenly felt like it was worth nothing, Uesugi thought, as he watched Sawada’s unruly friends engage themselves in a raucous chugging contest—tea because Kumai Ramen had no alcohol license, _yet_.

(which is probably a good thing)

Just outside that immediate circle of friends, Sawada was preoccupied with his cellphone, barely reacting to his friends’ questions and suggestive looks. There was a deep frown on that face. Coupled with the absence of a certain homeroom teacher, who otherwise would never have skipped a party with her ex-students, Uesugi could fairly guess who and what put that look on Sawada’s face.

Uesugi supposed that even Sawada Shin could not have everything.

* * *

 

“Alone, Sawada? Where’s your girlfriend?” Ritsu had asked when they bumped into each other on their way to the ramen shop some hours ago.

“Not my girlfriend yet,” Sawada had grumbled.

“Oh yes, that’s right.” Ritsu had heard about the ‘no dating until you (really, truly) graduate’ rule imposed by _both_ Sawada’s father and Sawada’s crush. It was nigh the only thing that man and that woman could agree on when it came to Sawada. Though for different reasons, Ritsu heard.

(what unnecessary family drama)

“Sorry man,” he had offered, lamely and really without meaning it.

“Not gon’ let it bother me,” Sawada had said rather off-handedly. For all his smarts, he was unbelievably bad at lying.

Their conversation had ground to a complete halt, then. And they both ambled aimlessly or people-watch the rest of the way. Sawada had a way to close down conversations with a flick of his head. It was subtle, but Ritsu had been raised in a family where ‘taking a hint’ was one of its important tenets.

* * *

 

“It’s complicated huh?” spoke mostly to himself. He poked a floating leek circle in the bowl with his chopsticks.

“What is?”

Uesugi was proud of himself for not jumping out of his gourd.

( _fucking_ Sawada)

Sawada hovered next to him with an amused smile. “Hayashisaki gone already?”

Uesugi shrugged. “You off?” he asked instead.

“Yeah,” Sawada said absently, juggling a bulging take away bag in one hand, and an insistently beeping phone in another.

“Here’s to the next two years, Sawada,” he said instead, lifting his lukewarm tea in a mock salute. They would be starting graduate school in a few weeks’ time. “I’ll kick your butt.”

“Looking forward to it,” Sawada answered, even as he began pressing buttons on his phone. Uesugi watched Sawada’s back as he walked out the door into the night.  


	2. Katana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0200) for additional stories: Kumai Sayuri's Story & food recipes.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

_You don’t have to, but thanks all the same_. Yamaguchi had written.

 _Don’t thank me, thank Kuma instead. I’m just the errand boy._ He replied, deciding that typing a text message one-handed was a pain. These phones were too wide, he decided. Else, was his thumb too short?

Yamaguchi didn’t text him back, maybe she was texting Kuma to thank him for the food.

The bus was taking forever to come, Sawada decided, though it might just be his impatience. He shifted from foot to foot, and readjusted his hold of the bag of food Kuma insisted for him to take.

Leftovers from the party, along with one fresh serving of gyoza and two shredded pork _bánh mì_ that Kuma wanted to serve as summer menu. There’s a jar of Thai-style chili and lime jam lying somewhere in the bottom of the bag. Kuma had turned into quite the chef, Sawada thought, it must’ve been a relief for [his mother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0201) who insisted on paying for her son's cooking lessons.

The bus came, finally, and it was sparsely filled. A surgical mask-wearing, bored-looking driver. A few old ladies who smiled creepily at him. One middle-schooler, dead to the world, possibly on his way back from cram school. He stood near the exit door, despite the sea of empty seats. Then he all but jumped out when the door opened at the stop nearest to the police station.

The nightshift receptionist barely looked up when he walked through the double doors, merely tilting his head to where Yamaguchi was sat. She had commandeered a whole corner for herself, it seemed—spreading paperwork across the whole surface of a corner table, her bag in one empty chair next to her, and a stack of folders in another. She was wielding her red pen, like she was a samurai on her last stand.

All in all, she looked at home in her corner. For someone so closely related to the underworld, Yamaguchi sure seemed at ease inside a police station, more so than some people felt inside their own houses.

He didn’t dare tell Yamaguchi that. Instead, he sat on the closest available chair, food bag on his lap, and thumped the back of his head against the wall. “You know, Yamaguchi,” he said, feigning nonchalance. She peered at him curiously. “Your choice of a dating spot sucks.”

Sawada smiled smugly when Yamaguchi sputtered.

* * *

 

It took a while for the blush on Yamaguchi's face to recede from fire-engine red to cherry blossom pink. It took equally as long for her to compose herself before launching into a long explanation of what's wrong. "Listen here, Sawada," she said seriously, and he sat up straight dutifully. 

For once, Yamaguchi’s stray wasn’t the troublemaking type, Sawada thought as he listened to Yamaguchi’s lengthy griping. In fact, he sounded like a text-book bully victim. He had been walking home from grocery shopping when a group of people came out of nowhere and attacked him. There were three of them, or maybe four. The alley was dark and he had lost his glasses early in the fight. They had taken his wallet and all his money, even his [cut-price pork and bag of potatoes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0202).

A bicycle police had saved him from them before they could do lasting damage. The boy had a shiner and some scratches, she relayed to him what she had heard from the cop-doc in charge. Nothing major.

The boy hadn’t been able to give the police any useful information about who attacked him; didn't stop the police from holding the boy back for 'routine questioning', though.

Yamaguchi was ranting about how dismissive and simultaneously suspicious the police had been; they acted as though catering to a Shirokin boy was beneath them. Her rant was long, as they were wont to be, but never rose above a whisper. The police station was quiet, and Sawada was sure that they could hear every last word she said. He was also sure that they had heard it so many times in the past that they had learned to turn a deaf ear.

His concentration began to wane, drawn to the different public service posters stuck on the walls. Just as he was testing his eyesight on the "Beware of Fire" poster beyond the door in the far corridor, he saw a person walking past. The person looked eerily similar to Vice Principal Sawatari (actually, it's Principal now, he had heard from Yamaguchi). But the guy went by so quickly that Sawada couldn’t be quite sure. The man who had walked past sure had Sawatari’s nose and mouth. But he wasn’t sure about the swagger, the sort of walk, and most of all… the hair. Sawada was sure that Sawatari-sensei either had helmet hair or literally had a helmet on his head. He couldn’t exactly remember. It was not important anyway.

It took him a while to realize that Yamaguchi had stopped talking. Moreover, she was no longer sat next to him. She was at the reception desk, signing out a quiet, mousey boy who looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

Soon, they walked out of the station, Yamaguchi taking the front, and him taking the rear. With the boy in the middle, they marched down the road quietly, almost contemplatively. He didn’t realize the night wind could be so bracing at this time of month.


	3. Sailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0300) for additional stories: A Student's Story & Okinawa's Beaches.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

[Kishimoto Seiji](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0301) was the boy’s name, a transfer student and very recent addition to class 2-4. The apartment he shared with his never-present aunt was surprisingly close to the police station, in a small rundown apartment on a street corner, above a miscellany shop. The stairs ran up the side of the building that faced a train track.

Having invited themselves inside the boy's apartment, Sawada and Yamaguchi wasted no time tag-teaming the boy into eating some gyoza and a few bites of bánh mì which, along with the rest of Kuma’s offering, were laid out in mismatched melamine tableware on a beat-up low table. The boy's grumbling about not needing an extra set of parents fell on deaf ears (or, studiously ignored, in Sawada's case).

Most likely in denial about this atmosphere of absolute domesticity, Sawada chose to examine the boy instead. In the half-shadows cast by the light of a bare yellow economy light bulb, the boy looked less like a lost cat and more like that quiet kid from _Ju-On_ , especially with the signs of blooming bruises on the boy’s face. He was pale—not just because he was recovering from the shock of being beaten up, but also because he was the indoor-type of boy. He was short, too, and with a haircut no boy above 10 years of age would like to be caught dead in. In all, the boy could easily pass as a middle-schooler.

Sawada thought that Kishimoto’s apartment was tiny, even for tiny apartment standards. It was clean and tidy. Oddly enough, it looked bigger than its 1DK size because it was so sparse, as if the occupants were living on bare necessities. Yet, in the midst of this barrenness, there were little pictures of seascapes, and tiny model ships and boats lined up next to seashells of all sizes along a shelf.

“You like the sea, huh?” Yamaguchi asked, she clearly noticed the same things he did and was not afraid to ask. Teacher’s privilege, he thought as he watched her ruffle the quiet boy’s hair affectionately. The boy looked quite alarmed. Sawada commiserated inwardly.

The boy gave short answers, reluctant to say more than necessary. He even tried to kick them out of the apartment a few times. Like everyone that Yamaguchi had ever taught, though, the boy soon realized that no one could make Yankumi do anything that Yankumi didn’t want to do; his homeroom teacher wasn’t going anywhere until he ate some food and spill his guts a little. Sawada had to smile when the boy visibly sighed, served the two adults some watered-down tea and began talking.

Having been around Yamaguchi long enough, Sawada quickly realized that he had another talker in front of him. He tsked and rolled his eyes, settled back against the short chest of drawers propped under the window. Between the boy and Yamaguchi, he wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise, anyway. So he might as well get comfy; the breeze was nice enough with the window half-way open. He listened to the boy with half an ear, while most of his other senses were helplessly drawn to Yamaguchi.

He watched her encourage the boy to talk more about [the island](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0302) of his birth, about him growing up, his favorite haunts, and his dreams for the future. He smiled when she made one of her expansive gestures that relaxed the boy in ways that no warm milk or hot cocoa could do.

Sawada told himself, sternly, he had nothing to be jealous about a snot-nosed kid. He realized, perhaps it’s not so much jealousy as resentment.

(another non-date flushed down the drain)

Perhaps, it was more akin to resignation.

* * * * *

Kishimoto finally managed to throw the two adults out long after midnight, after he promised many things to Yamaguchi. Like: _yes, my aunt won't be coming home tonight; no, I don't know when she'll be back; yes, I'll be fine alone; yes, I'll call you if something happens; yes, I'll be careful; yes, I'll let Yankumi accompany me to the optician to get replacement glasses_.

After all, Yamaguchi knew a good optician, who had never failed her. Not once.

Later, out of earshot, on their way back to Yamaguchi's home, Sawada wondered aloud, "This optician..."

"Hmm? What of him?"

"He's not an underground optician is he?" Because he still remembered the underground doc who treated him, and the underground dentist whose treatment he firmly (and politely) refused.

Sawada absolutely did not laugh when an _oh, crap_ was clearly telegraphed on Yamaguchi's face. Absolutely not.


	4. Ajisai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0400) for additional story: Kyou-san's late night talk with Kuroda-oyabun.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

Sawada refused to be embarrassed about the fact that he knew Yamaguchi’s schedule by heart. After all, it wasn’t that long ago since he was a student at the same school and followed almost the same schedule. He doubted that the school’s schedule had changed much over the handful of years he’d been gone. He still had time before he had to show his face at his part-time job, and Yamaguchi shouldn’t have a tutorial on Wednesdays.

Then again, he should’ve known better, really, considering the kind of school she taught at. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that he was a student at the same school and caused almost the same kind of trouble.

Kyou-san greeted him at the entrance.

“Ojou’s gone to break up some schoolboy’s fight,” Kyou-san said as he pushed Sawada unceremoniously to the inner courtyard of the Family House. She’d be back soon, in any case.

So, there he was, on his knees in the shade outside a shed-like structure, helping Kyou-san put some hydrangea seeds into little containers—they looked more like little raisins or rabbit poop to him. After a while, Sawada came to a realization that gardening was not for him. However, Ooshima Kyoutaro-san proved to be an accomplished closet gardener.

(who knew?)

Gardening was an innocent enough act, he supposed, people across the world do it. His mother, for instance, liked gardening. His father who would get roped in by his mother, too sometimes. It didn’t stop him from feeling like he’s in the middle of hiding a secret somehow.

Sawada listened with half an ear about how Yamaguchi inherited none of her mother’s aptitude for traditional women skills—Yamaguchi Kumiko had no interest in ikebana, no patience for cha-no-yu. Kyou-san reminisced of the many times Yamaguchi's late mother, Yuriko-san would turn away suitors with bitter tea or the insults subtly conveyed via the flowers arranged on the [tokonoma](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0402).

“It’s not to say that Ojou doesn’t have her own way of dealing with things,” Kyou-san said with faraway eyes and fond smiles. “A kendo match, of all things. Beat up Uma-no-O’s nidaime and sent him home with his tail between his legs, she did.” Kyou-san laughed out loud, apparently liking the image that resurfaced in his head.

“I wonder if I had to defeat her before I can propose to her,” Sawada said absently, but apparently still loud enough to pierce through Kyou-san’s belly laughter. The sharp clatter of Kyou-san’s metal shovel hitting hard ground was the loudest sound Sawada had ever heard.

 _Shit_. Sawada hated how anything about Yamaguchi made him run his mouth more than necessary.

They stared at each other, quietly and quite frozen.

Birds sang overhead, and winds rustled the leaves without care.

The ground refused to swallow him up.

Seeing no means of escape, he met Kyou-san’s glare head on, with a glare of his own. He realized he had gotten too comfortable with the people here that he had somehow forgotten how _dangerous_ Kyou-san could be, that he was not wakagashira to Kuroda-gumi’s Rising Dragon out of nothing. _Shit!_ It was times like these that he felt less of a Red Lion and more of a circus lion, trying to get on with a playbook he didn’t understand.

It was as if his heart was beating too fast too loudly one minute, and not beating at all the next minute, then running away from him again. The sky was blue and the wind was calm, he thought that it would be one of those ‘good day to die’ days.

* * * * *

At the underground gambling den, the sounds of sirens and the imminent rush of a police raid managed to save him from his first crushing defeat after a string of awe-inspiring winning run at cards—unwittingly preserving his unbeaten run. This time, his certain death in the hands of Kyou-san was averted by the sound of the front door sliding violently, followed by much stomping and liberal cursing.

The coldblooded glint instantly melted out of Kyou-san’s eyes, and his sneer twisted up into a wry smile.

“If I didn’t know that Ojou has her sights on you, I’d already have run you through with my shovel,” he said.

* * * * * 

“Sawada! You’re here!” Yamaguchi bounded into view, pushing a shoji screen aside none-too-gently. These were times when Sawada felt so much respect for the builders of the house, not even Hurricane Yankumi could topple it.  

“Yo,” Sawada greeted back, waving his small shovel slightly in greeting.

“Those kids,” she grumbled good-naturedly, as she sat on the engawa, swinging her clogs-clad feet idly. “You really can’t take your eyes away from them even for one minute,” she sighed, flopping onto her back, head pillowed by her teaching bag. She sighed again, heavily this time, which alarmed both Kyou-san and Sawada just a little. _Those brats_ , they thought.

“But they’re sooooo~ cute,” she gushed and stretched her hands up high above her head. “Aaaaaah~ I’m sooo lucky!” Sometimes, she looked like a self-satisfied cat.

It was sights like this, of how Yamaguchi radiated happiness in her chosen profession, that had melted the hearts of all the Kuroda men, that they worked hard to hold themselves back from forcing her into accepting the headship, or even into a gokudo life. It was sights like this that strengthened Sawada’s resolve to work hard so he could one day support Yamaguchi in ways that Shinohara-sensei could not… would not. _His loss_ , Sawada thought darkly.

It's not like he didn't understand why Shinohara-sensei ended up quitting; the road _was_ difficult. He’s not even _on_ it yet, not properly anyway. The closer he was to it, the more he realized how crazy the ride would be. These past few years would seem like child’s play compared to what would come after he graduated law school. Maybe he would laugh about it, much much later, when he’s over the hill. He just had to do it first.

He didn't make it a habit to succumb to melancholy or overthinking, but on the rare times he did, he would miss noticing a lot of things. Like a pat on his back. He looked up and saw sympathy in Kyou-san’s eyes. In the background and oblivious to his bellyaching, Yamaguchi was retelling her latest student-saving escapade to a captive audience of two—Tetsu and Minoru.

“Say, Kyou-san,” he ventured. “How long until the flowers come out?”

Kyou-san chuckled a little bit. "There's still a lot of work to do before then... But maybe, three, four years? Until you can see a proper one, anyway,” Kyou-san stopped patting a small earth mound and looked sideways, puzzled. “But you can use some real good fertilizers to make it in two or less than three.” Then Kyou-san’s voice dropped. “And can you guess who knows someone who knows someone who drives these fertilizer trucks?”

Sawada laughed as Kyou-san winked conspirationally. He supposed that even fertilizers fall out of the back of trucks in this world.

In the background, Yamaguchi laughed at some odd quip from Minoru. The sky was still blue. The world hadn’t ended.

Sawada felt the kind of bravery that grew out of a near-death experience. “Maybe just in time for a proposal?”

“A proposal?" Kyou-san's eyebrow rose to his hairline. The older man offered [a feral grin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0401). "Just in time for graduation, then? As you promised?”

“As _she_ made me promise, but yes… that’s the plan,” he said, and felt his smile waver. Sawada wished for strength.


	5. High Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0500) for additional stories: Sawada's Father's story & Onitamagawa Sayuri headcanon.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

There were not a lot of things that the yakuza and the police could see eye-to-eye about. The ones they did mutually agree on, was not advantageous to Sawada Shin at all. Which was how he got stuck in this non-relationship relationship with an infuriating woman.

During his first year of undergraduate, after that debacle with Tsuruwa-kumi's Ojousan, he had struck a deal with his father. As long as he was still studying full-time, Sawada Shin would stay at home, with the family, and attend things with family. In return, his father would not stop him from going out with Yamaguchi.

He had put up a token fight when his father moved him out of his rented apartment. Yamaguchi had been there with him, but she hadn’t been any help at all. With her odd sense of familial piety, she threw her support behind this move wholeheartedly and even rather forcefully. It was impossible to say no to her when she's on her Family-is-Everything Mode.

 _Isn’t it great_? Yamaguchi had gushed. _Now it’s time to mend fences. You only have one family in this world, Sawada! Don’t ever make your mother cry!_

* * *

So, here he was, at a Police HQ to-do, dressed up in penguin suit that would send Yamaguchi into a fit of laughter, despite the fact that her fashion sense was more suspect than his. He would never forget the times when he clapped eyes on Yamaguchi’s Big Sister Yakuza get-up—the kimono kind, or even the fur-coat kind, the jury’s still out.

His father introduced him around to a veritable who’s who of the law enforcement and political world. Sawada was trained enough since birth to smile and give proper compliments, so it’s not hardship really.

Wonderful, a few those buttoned-up old men would exclaim, to have finished undergraduate in three years and in the top three as well.

And what a handsome young man, a set of bejeweled ladies would interject. Takes after his dashing father.

Isn’t [Director-General Sawada](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0501) the odds on favorite for the top position? Another set would say, while pushing slips of paper with their daughter’s or niece’s or nice-girl-we-know’s mail address or phone number to him. Slips of paper that ended up strategically buried in sundry potted plants around the room. 

(gardening sure has its uses)

Sawada had been really tempted to put in one or two deliberately off-color comments as he had often did in the past. While rudeness might be cute when he was a kid, he doubted he the ladies would titter and the gentlemen would laugh in amusement if he insulted them to their face.

Above all, there’s this whole big picture that involved a certain woman of a certain family line.

(ah big pictures and responsibilities, sometimes being an adult is tough)

When his face had gone numb from smiling and his fingers ached from handshakes, he excused himself as politely as he could. Making a quick and organized retreat to a corner of the room, he missed a slight frown of concern that formed across his father’s brow when he bypassed the buffet table.

“It must be hard for you not to be able to say, ‘Actually I want to become a yakuza lawyer’, ne Shin- _chan_?”

“ _Shut up—_ oh it’s you.” He forgot that Uesugi would be here too, being the son of a rather high-ranking prosecutor who came from a long line of prosecutors. “How are you enjoying the party, Uesugi?”

“About as much as you, I bet.”

“We’ll go to Kumai’s the first chance we have,” Sawada said with finality.

“Sure. Let’s say half an hour?” Uesugi said and Sawada nodded. “I’ll let her know,” Uesugi decided for himself, ditching Sawada even before the last syllable left his mouth. The _her_ in question being [Onitamagawa Sayuri](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0502), who was nobly suffering in her contact lenses, standing next to her grand-uncle, the Godfather of Japanese Forensics.

(how _old_ is he anyway?)

Sawada idly wondered how he ended up being in friendly terms (he wouldn’t call them _friends_ , per se) with his two biggest rivals at university, and started to hang out with these two odd-balls more than he did with his pre-university friends, except Kuma. Sometimes even Kuma wasn’t sure whether he went to Kuma’s for the friendship or for the food.  

Thinking about food made Sawada hungry. But on his way to the buffet tale, he thought he saw a familiar face…

* * *

“Principal Sawatari?” Shin came up to the familiar man who had been the bane of his high school existence. “What are you doing here?” _Of all the places to have a high school reunion_. Maybe he’s here as a guest of someone.

“Are you talking to me?” the man turned around from the buffet table to face him, irritation barely hidden from his face. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong person maybe?”

The similarity was uncanny though, Shin thought. The forehead, the nose, mouth, even the flare of those ears. Similarly atrocious choice of fashion. Only the hairstyle was different. This man’s hairline moved violently with every eyebrow twitch and exaggerated jaw movement as he munched on a tiny canapé, with another micro-sandwich waiting to be eaten in one hand. It looked like a toupee any way you cut it.

“Are you by any chance related to Sawatari Goro?” Shin asked, knowing that it was rude to stare, but couldn’t help it anyway.

“Never ‘eard of ‘im,” the man spoke around his food, “Why?”

“Nothing,” Shin mumbled, feeling rather stupid. “Sorry for taking your time.”

Before Shin could escape, however, his father appeared next to him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Ah Shin, you’ve found him. This is Lieutenant Yabe Kenzo, the rising star of Public Safety. The Lieutenant is temporarily assigned to Shirokin PD, chasing down a fugitive, I heard. Thank you for your hard work.”

The lieutenant, meanwhile, saluted smartly and perhaps too forcefully that his hair was almost knocked over, “Yes Sir, thank you Sir!”

So, he hadn’t been imagining things, Sawada thought, glad that he was not losing his mind one bit. For some reason, he couldn’t wait to tell Yamaguchi about this; she’d be tickled pink for sure. Someone who looked and acted like Principal Sawatari. Apparently, the universe _could_ handle two of them.

“This is my younger son, Sawada Shin.” They shook hands, and smiled stiffly at each other.  “I have to make a few more rounds, then we’ll leave,” his father told him, telling him to _stay put_ in not so many words. Sawada had to give it to the lieutenant; if he objected to the sudden babysitting job, he hid it well.

“So I thought I saw you at Shirokin Police Station a couple of months ago,” Sawada began, once his father was out of earshot.


	6. Saigo no Banchan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0600) for an additional story: Sawatari Look-a-Like's Story.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

He managed to lure Yamaguchi out for a date on a school night, but Sawada refused to be smug about it. He had told her about the sushi place everybody on campus had been raving about. He had also promised to give her some juicy gossip. It was really a one-two punch she couldn’t resist.

They met up by the pillar next to the train station’s newsstand, and was surprised to find out that it was so close to Kishimoto Seiji’s apartment.

“ _Huh_. I didn’t know it’s this close,” Yamaguchi said offhandedly. That night, after they had picked the boy up and sent him home, they had walked all the way back to the Kuroda Family Homestead; it was really so they could spend more time together.

“You could really hear the trains from his apartment, though,” Sawada said, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. The one closest to Yamaguchi was itching terribly, for some reason. He feigned ignorance.

“Kishimoto-kun,” Yamaguchi said, after a spate of comfortable silence punctuated by a passing train, “he’s really bright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” she nodded sharply, sending two pigtails flying up in the air like streamers. “He knows a lot of about science and stuff. Like biology and geography. He's not so good with maths though. Room for improvement, right?”

Sawada could already guess, actually. He remembered the kid could barely keep his mouth shut talking about the island of his birth, the flora and fauna there (did he really talk about a bug with a human face? Sawada couldn’t be sure). He remembered the kid all but gave a science-fair presentation about the weird geological phenomena occuring on the island.

“You know,” Yamaguchi mused loudly, as she kicked a loose stone on the sidewalk. “Principal Sawatari was beside himself. Here’s his chance of getting another Shirokin boy into Toudai!” She punctuated her words with jazz hands. “Your framed picture and acceptance letter was getting mighty lonely in the school’s main entrance, you know.” _First and as Yet the Only Toudai Qualifier from Shirokin_ , the damn brass plaque read.

At least they didn’t carve out a bust of you to put in the courtyard and throw a fete for you every year, Yamaguchi had consoled him when he first learned about the photo.

“Speaking of Sawatari…” Sawada was perhaps too eager to divert attention away from that embarrassing detail of his life. “Did you know…”

He was stopped mid-speech by a white gloved hand pushing him back.

* * *

They were only a few feet away from the sushi shop. A swarm of blue-clad policemen, and the ominous yellow police line spelled the crashing and burning of yet another one of Sawada’s hopes for a successful date. There were several ambulances and a lot of police cars stuffed into the narrow streets between the buildings, their red and blue flashing lights making his eyes bleed.

The universe was definitely conspiring against him, he decided. If he hadn’t been convinced before, he was now.

Yamaguchi, he noted, was every bit the kind of person who would slow down at the sight of an accident. She was craning her neck, and looking around. He stuck close to her, just in case.

“Hey! That’s Sawatari!” she exclaimed, tugging him by the hand to move closer.

There was already a crowd of onlookers gathering around the place, and the policemen were having a hard time pushing them back. Sawada had to twist his body and crane his neck when a freakishly tall person suddenly stepped into his line of sight.

“That’s not Sawatari,” he told Yamaguchi, although he didn’t know why he was whispering. “That’s [the police guy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0601) I was trying to tell you about! The one that looked like Principal Sawatari!”

“Doppelganger?” Yamaguchi whispered back, head barely tilted as she had her eyes fixed on the scene—the first stretcher was rolling out of the sushi shop. “Are you sure? Have you seen both of them in one room at once?”

“Well? Whaddya _think_?” Sawada asked, perhaps a tad bit harshly. “Do you think Sawatari would moonlight as a police detective on his off time?”

“Or maybe Sawatari was an undercover fuzz all this time!” she whispered equally harshly at him. "No wonder he was so harsh to me!"

Sawada unfortunately had no comeback this time around, instead watching another three stretchers rolling out of the shop in quick succession.

* * * * *

They ended up at Kumai Ramen, arguably the safest eatery in this corner of Japan. Kuma fed them some experimental menus for the next season; the jury was still out on the ramune-flavored shaved ice, which sounded fine but tasted slightly questionable.

The television droned behind them, and when the news came, they watched the police detective that looked like Sawatari giving a short statement. Something about food poisoning, and developing investigation.


	7. Futari no Shashin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0700) for an additional story: Kuma gains an admirer (sort of).
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

Sawada had no love for extra-curricular activities, and he rued the day his nodding off in class was taken as a “yes, of course I will help out with the after-class study group” by his professor. He suspected it was a deliberate misreading.

So he would usually sleep in a corner or exchange text messages with his friends or with Yamaguchi.

He frowned when his _whazzup_ text message to Yamaguchi went uncharacteristically unreplied for the longest time. He checked his watch. School should be out by now. He jiggled his leg anxiously.

When the reply finally came, he bolted out of the door without remorse.

 _At the police station with Kishimoto_.

The damned runt, he thought darkly. For such a nerd he sure ended up at the police station quite a bit.

* * * * *

He had expected another boring wait in the police station reception area. In fact, he had expected a lot of boring things. Which was why he was so surprised to find himself walking into a shouting match on the police station forecourt. The sparse midday crowd around the station was trying to act unconcerned while stealing glances as the two sparring figures. Yamaguchi was, somewhat unsurprisingly, in the middle of it. Yamaguchi in Yankumi-mode was facing off a very tall scruffy man that appeared to be half-absent-minded-scholar (thick expensive glasses, expensive shirt), half-unwashed-homeless (scruffy beard and hair, bag that has seen better days). The guy was tall though, very tall. Beanpole tall, with a hint of muscle underneath those clothes. Maybe even good at martial arts. Sawada decided not to take chances and kept his guard up.

He spied Kishimoto trying to make himself small behind a pillar and decided the boy wasn’t his concern at the moment.

“Yamaguchi!” he called out, crossing the short space in a hurry.

“Sawada!” she exclaimed, as she visibly unclenched. “Come tell him I’m not who he thought I was!”

* * *

Yamaguchi explained to him why Kishimoto landed at the police station again. Kishimoto’s wallet had been found among the personal effects of the four victims of the sushi shop food poisoning incident. So naturally, the boy had been summoned to the police station, and Yamaguchi had gone with him in lieu of his absentee legal guardian (also because Yamaguchi can’t help but butt into every little thing that plagued her beloved students).

At least it wasn’t some Shirokin-typical occurrence—like bullying or being bullied, like picking up or being baited into a fight, like getting caught skipping classes at the pachinko, or falling into the wrong crowd—Sawada thought. Positive thinking wasn’t getting him anywhere, though.

“Here, eat up,” Yamaguchi was in full mother-hen mode, fussing over a timid Kishimoto, who looked like he didn’t have the muscle mass to lift up the extra large bowl of ramen she ordered for him.

They left Kishimoto sitting on the bench [in front of](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0701) Kuma’s open kitchen, where the kid looked a bit fascinated by Kuma’s cooking skills.

That left the adults sitting by the window, minding adult business, sharing one medium plate of gyoza between them.

“I apologize for freaking out before,” the tall man told Yamaguchi when she retook her seat next to Sawada. “But, you must admit you do look very much like her, it’s uncanny.”

There’s a small square of photograph lying on the table between them. No matter how you look at it, Sawada thought, there’s no way you could _see_ anything.

It looked like a piece of aura photography to him, of two people sharing the same frame. The resultant color looked like a rainbow had thrown up on the photo’s surface. He could barely see the faces. The one on the left side was taller—so Sawada deduced that would be Mister Beanpole. The other one’s forehead, eyes and nose were barely in the frame—so Sawada deduced that would be the woman who supposedly looked like Yamaguchi. Mister Beanpole called the woman "Yamada Naoko".

He crossed his hands in front of his chest, unwittingly mirroring Yamaguchi, who had her hands crossed in front of her, head tilted to one side. She hmmm-ed once or twice and looked up at the man who was eating the lunch of innocents.

“Mister….”

“Ah, I’m Professor Ueda Jiro,” the other man replied around a mouthful of gyoza. “From Japan Technology University, currently a visiting lecturer at Tokyo University, Physics Department.”

“ _Professor_ Ueda,” Yamaguchi tried again. “This… this…” she stammered, completely at a loss for words, pointing at the photograph on the table.

“Looks like you, doesn’t it?” Professor Beanpole looked and sounded so smug.

“Don’t mess with _me_! This doesn’t even look like _anything_!” She brought her hand down with more force than necessary. A soy sauce bottle hopped, skipped, jumped off the table.

Sawada thought so, too. The more he looked at it, the more it resembled one of those 3D stereograms that the school nurse used to check everyone’s vision. Although perhaps he would not express it in such a violent way. He went to salvage the soy sauce bottle, and checked on Kishimoto who was quietly doing his homework.

“Ah,” Professor Beanpole was visibly astonished. Sawada guessed he did not expect such an outburst. Perhaps it would be enough to prove that Yamaguchi was not this other woman the he thought she was. “Well… Yabe-san did say that you lost your memory somehow. Did you lose your eyesight as well? That's definitely you in this photo. I mean... Yamada Naoko!”

“Well I can tell you I have perfect memory, and my eyesight is what it is,” Yamaguchi huffed and adjusted her eyeglasses.

“Wait, _Yabe_ -san?” Sawada interjected. “ _Lieutenant_ Yabe?”

"You know him?" Professor Beanpole straightened up and looked at Sawada with interest.

“Who is this Yabe person?” Yamaguchi hated to be the last one to know _anything_.

“Don’t you remember? The police detective that looked like Principal Sawatari,” Sawada supplied, almost exasperatedly. This sudden spate of doppelgangers appearing everywhere you look was beginning to worry him. He leaned back in his seat, and wondered if he should not consult Onitmagawa—she’s that kind of nerd who would know these things, he thought. Or… he could research it himself.

One look at Professor Beanpole’s concerned eyes told him that he wasn’t the only one feeling apprehensive.

* * * * *

Kishimoto dropped his pen, and it rolled all the way to Sawada’s feet. Yamaguchi took it as a sign to wrap things up; she had some math tutorial to oversee.

They were standing at the bus stop, each of them shifting from foot to foot for different reasons. Professor Ueda’s bus arrived first, he was halfway inside the bus when he turned around and leaned down abruptly, hitting his head on the low door. “May I see you again? I still have questions.”

Yamaguchi stared at him and didn’t answer even as the bus’s hydraulics hissed and the doors slid shut, barely missing Professor Beanpole’s fingers.

“He smells like trouble,” Yamaguchi told them on the bus that would take them back to Shirokin High. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a grim line.


	8. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0800) for additional stories: Orange season in Okinawa; Shin's Bookstore; and Yankumi on a School Trip.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

It's been a while since he last went to Okinawa. Was it during _that_ school trip? How things change, he mused as he looked around the landscape, how things stay the same.

He had been tailing the school charter bus for almost a full day now, and he had come to a realization. 

(hell, it's so boring)

In an overzealous attempt to keep Shirokin’s boys away from a confrontation with other schools—or other people, come to that—they went to a secluded beach that had uniform white sands and barely any surf, the only living thing was a crab that gave them a cold shoulder. Then they went to an [orange orchard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0801), deep inside the heart of Izumi (which in turn lay deep in the middle of west Okinawa) for some orange picking activity. But of course, they were about two seasons too early, and all the orange trees were bare, and the information center was closed. The hotel they'd be spending their night in was actually still on the orange village grounds, but the sea and the grove were so far apart that they barely made it to the hotel for dinner.

While the teachers and students were having dinner and stretching their legs, Sawada managed to find out Yamaguchi’s room number. It was even easy to sneak into the room. It was a good room, with a good view. Feeling a bit like a creeper in the empty room, he finally left via the balcony after propping a bit of paper under the sliding door to keep it from locking completely.

He decided to take a mindless walk around the deserted orchard, to waste time.

* * *

Not a creeper at all (not one bit), he easily jumped onto the ground-floor balcony. He was glad to find his rigging of the door had remained intact. It was already dark inside the room, so he must’ve walked around longer than expected.

Another thing he didn’t expect, but should have, was how untidy Shirokin’s two female teachers were. He tripped over something large and was sent flying almost across the room.

Which was why Yamaguchi ended up waking—much like deja vu—with Sawada hovering above her.

“I… I thought you have summer work at the bookstore,” she stuttered, trying to edge away from Sawada’s face that was honestly too close to hers for comfort. Even in the darkness, Sawada could tell she was blushing furiously.

“Done and dusted,” he said, rolling off her, sitting on the edge of her bed. "[For good](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0802)."

It was rather sad to have to resign from his part-time job at the bookstore, but his law internship was taking more and more of his time, he barely had time to nap anymore.

He heard Fujiyama sniggering, completely failing at pretending to be asleep, “Brought back memories, eh?” she commented breezily, while Yamaguchi sputtered and turned bright red.

Sawada bristled, but Fujiyama was already waving at him dismissively, whispering theatrically, “Don’t mind me. You young ones enjoy yourself.”  

He refused to take the bait, and when the bedside lamp was flicked on, he found himself tidying the different souvenir bags and luggage bags from all over the floor. He felt like he was developing a complex. _How much stuff does a woman need for a three-day school trip, anyway?_

Speaking of school trips… Sawada finally remembered the other reason why he hastened to her side. “I saw Iwamoto-sensei running around like a headless chicken. One of your kids has flown the coop.” He didn’t say _like always_ , but Yamaguchi heard it anyway. She scowled.

“Which one, do you know?” Yamaguchi went from sleepy to wide awake in two seconds flat.

“I was too busy sneaking past ‘em. Do you know how hard it is now that I don’t have decoys to rely on.” None of his friends could ditch their summer work, though there was a time in the past when they wouldn’t hesitate to ditch. They had become responsible adults, Yamaguchi would be proud.

* * *

Of- _fucking-_ course, it had to be Kishimoto Seiji.

It was Sawada’s turn to scowl. They were supposed to at least enjoy a moonless stroll under bare orange boughs. Instead, they were whisper-shouting the kid’s name, and hoping that he’s not roadkill somewhere.

Sooner or later, Yamaguchi would always find her lost chicks, however; she seemed to preternaturally know where all of her students were, as though she had implanted them with a tracking chip. Or maybe she did, because [she found](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0803) Kishimoto hiding behind a shack of some sort standing at the outer edges of the grove.

* * * * * 

Sawada yawned even as he was getting rather annoyed by mosquitos buzzing around him. Leaning against a tree trunk, he listened with half an ear to Kishimoto spewing his homesick guts out to Yamaguchi who made all the right noises and nodded at all the right places. The poor kid never really dissolved into a crying fit, but even Sawada could hear the sadness lacing the kid's every word.

It made Sawada wonder. He wondered if he ever had anything he was so attached to it could make him cry just thinking about it.


	9. Dolphin Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0900) for additional stories: Sawada's two tag-alongs; Perilla mint; and Fujiyama-sensei's story.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

He still [didn’t know why](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0901) he was friends with these two.

It was their first week back to their internship grind after summer break, and they were running late. Sawada decided that he wouldn't fret about it and catch some Z-time instead. He slumping down in his seat at the back of Onitamagawa’s cornflower-and-white souped up Mazda R360.

“Onitamagawa!” Uesugi must've eaten something weird again this morning, to give him this much energy to yell. “I distinctly remember buying you that alarm clock that you liked!” It was expensive too, Sawada remembered. For some reason, he was always roped into Uesugi’s shopping sprees. He didn’t know any other guy who shopped as hard as Uesugi, to be honest.

“Shut up Uesugi!” she replied around her buttered toast, as she ran the red light. “I wasn’t asleep, anyway.”

“Yeah? So why are you so late then?”

“Grand-uncle had a very interesting case.”

“Oh really? Do tell?”

Sawada could tell that the Uesugi wasn't really interested, but he knew that Onitamagawa never passed on any chance to lecture ears off people.

“Hey, Sawada!” Onitamagawa just couldn’t leave him well enough alone, could she?

“What?”

“Remember the multiple food poisoning case that ground your sushi date night to a halt?”

“Not a date night,” Sawada deadpanned. “But go on.”

“You know the victims died, right?”

“They _died_?! How _severe_ was it?” For all his bravado, Uesugi was quite squeamish. 

“You really can die from food poisoning, you know,” Onitamagawa said matter-of-factly, as she swerve violently enough to barely miss a pedestrian. “But these people, they didn’t die from food poisoning. Or rather, they didn't present common symptoms of food poisoning.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, how long ago was the original incident? Hey Sawada, how long ago was that date anyway? Have you been on another one after that?” Onitamagawa and Uesugi sniggered.

(what's so funny about that?)

“Anyway, the examiners and pathologists spent all this time to narrow down the cause but couldn't... and that's why they asked my grand-uncle for help, which they should've done from the get-go. It was bizarre after all. Put it this way: if they were goats, I’d say they ate [too much shiso](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0902).”

“But they’re not goats.”

“Well, they didn’t look like common goats, anyway,” she mused, more to herself.

* * *

It was interesting for Sawada to half-listen to the two of them spout theories—ranging from the plausible to entirely horseshit.

(centaurs? really? they should be satyrs at least)

Hating himself for being dragged into their absurd banter, Sawada opened his eyes just a little to gauge how far they still had to go until they reached their internship gig.

Onitamagawa decided at the last minute to take a short cut through some abandoned storage complex. Sawada’s eyes flew open as he was jostled off his seat after a particularly vicious turn off the main road and into the abandoned complex.

“Eyes on the road, wom…. Wait! Hang on!” He saw some suspicious-looking people lifting a suspicious looking cargo out of an unmarked black car.

“Oh look!” Uesugi exclaimed, pointing at the exact same tableau.

Onitamagawa wisely parked her car in the next available alleyway, six or seven buildings away from the ‘scene’. Those suspicious looking people did not seem to catch on that they had spectators, yet.

“Should we go look?” Uesugi whispered, though no one knew why he did.  

“We’re not playing heroes,” Onitamagawa said with absolute finality, practically stopping Sawada from opening the back door. She killed of the car’s engine, and flipped her phone open. “I'll call the cops, then we go. There’s no way in hell I’m going to be late for work.”

Uesugi's "we wouldn't have been late, if you had woken up on time" was summarily slapped out of his mouth.

From his vantage point, it was difficult for Sawada to get a good look at the cargo being hauled out, but he was sure that it was a person.

“A kidnapping?” Uesugi spoke up.

“Just our luck,” Onitamagawa sighed. “Call your dad, Sawada. I’m being put on hold by some asshole.”

Sawada never made it a habit to call his father for help, and he wondered if he should now. Someone’s life was in trouble anyway. He ended up calling Lieutenant Yabe. He still didn’t know when or why he had put the Sawatari look-alike's phone number in his phone address book. That he had done something without remembering it, unsettled him a bit. The lieutenant, thankfully, was already in the area for some unrelated police business. The man didn’t sound happy to be ordered around by a kid, son of a Police Higher Up or not.

Sawada sighed and told his friends that the police would be on their way. Not allowed to go anywhere by Onitamagawa, the three of them sat huddled inside the car, recording things on their cameraphones. Kidnappings were becoming more frequent now with the economy free-falling into the dumps—money, revenge, or lunacy. Sawada zoomed in on the scene and promptly dropped his phone when he saw someone he knew very well.

“Holy crap [that’s Fujiyama](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0903)!” he exclaimed as he clapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes bugged out as he recognized his former high school teacher being slung over the shoulder of a man the size of a mountain gorilla. He cursed inwardly.

(who knew Fujiyama is a trouble magnet? this is becoming of a regular occurrence)

He reached for the car door, fully intent to jump out and help Fujiyama when Onitamagawa stomped on the acceleration pedal viciously, throwing Sawada onto the car floor. “Didn’t I say… _no one plays hero on a work day?!_ ” Sawada thought the sound of distant sirens punctuated her raised voice perfectly. Police cars passed them swiftly as they Onitamagawa drove full speed _away_ from the warehouse; they barely made it to their internship on time.

* * * * *

The law office they’re interning at was housed in a shiny building in the heart of Tokyo. Sparkly buildings didn’t always have valet service, or even if they did, they wouldn’t offer it to three harried interns. Little details like these, however, were of no consequence to Onitamagawa, who threw her car keys, a wad of bill, and a fly-by Thank You to the nearest doorman-looking person. Uesugi ran after Onitamagawa, and Sawada pretended not to know his two yearmates.

The man, who might or might not be a doorman, parked her car meekly in a space usually reserved for VIPs.

* * * * * 

Sawada spent the whole day having his ears chewed by either his friends, or his boss, or all three of them at once. He tried to convince himself that his spacing out was a common occurrence and not because he was worried for Fujiyama. It didn’t stop him from checking his mail and thumbing down though spam messages to find… absolutely nothing.

After lunch, Uesugi and Onitamagawa got on his case even more. His inattention had earned the three of them a chance to “reflect upon their mistakes” by reorganizing the 2nd Filing Room.

By the time they were let out of the windowless, cell-receptionless room, it was already dark. Someone had taken Onitamagawa’s car home, sometime during the day. In its place waited a gleaming Bentley complete with an ikemen driver whom Uesugi eyed with much suspicion and a little animosity.

Sitting in the back seat of Onitamagawa’s Bentley, listening to the two bicker for where to go for dinner, Sawada stared at his empty mailbox and privately fretted over his existence. Even Uchi who could be depended upon to send gag messages had stopped sending them once his own internship at a movie production company started.

"Hey Sawada," Onitamagawa drawled. "A watched phone never rings. Go text her."

"Shut up. I know," he groused, when his cellphone all but jumped off his hand, ringing along madly with a ringtone that he definitely did not choose to use. There’s only one other person he’d let even within breathing distance of his phone. He snorted inelegantly. Yamaguchi was becoming less of a luddite these days.

“I figured your boss would let you out by now. They work you real hard, don’t they?” she said in lieu of greetings.

“Yamaguchi… is Fujiyama… do you know…”

“She’s alright. Shaken but fine,” Yamaguchi chirped, “Fujiyama-sensei’s a tough cookie you know.” Behind the cadence of her voice, Sawada could hear the noise that could only be Shirokin students dining at Kuma’s. “Come over to Kuma’s. We’re celebrating her safe return!”

He looked around and saw Onitamagawa and Uesugi looking at him hungrily. “Okay, I may have two tagalongs with me.”

“Sure! No problem!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, and then in an exaggerated whisper she added, “Oh, by the way, that Sawatari lookalike guy is here, too! He’s hero of the day!” A loud cheer went up behind her.

He could hear a door being opened, and the sound of traffic rising up behind her even as the cheers dimmed. She must’ve stepped outside. “But Sawada,” he heard her say, almost too quietly, like sharing some big secret. “Principal Sawatari declined to attend for some flimsy reason. Don’t you think it’s suspicious? Do you think they’re actually the same person? You never see them in the same place together.”


	10. Jamboree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1000) for an additional story: Professor Ueda the renaissance man. 
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

Sawada soon learned that Fujiyama had been picked up because the kidnappers thought she was Yamaguchi. _Again_. The informant was a student by the name of Kishimoto Seiji, which surprised Sawada, because the quiet boy didn’t look like a snitch type of a person. _The traitor_ , he thought darkly. Kishimoto never came back to school, and Sawada had to watch Yamaguchi moped around anxiously. She worried that something really bad had befallen him. Before the week was up, Sawada found himself dragged up to Yamaguchi’s student’s apartment.

He wondered why he wasn’t surprised to find the apartment to be bare, with no sign of the boy ever been its occupant. Gone were the little colorful boats and the neat row of seashells. He could barely see the faint lines on the wall where sea landscapes used to hang. It was a cold room and oddly felt smaller. His heart clenched a little when he watched her face fall into a sad frown. 

Lieutenant Yabe was there as well, alongside a goofy man.

(apparently, every police detective needed a textbook sidekick type buddy. not just in the movies.)

The man, who was introduced as Sergeant Akiba Harando had long hair and seemed to be perpetually smiling and cringing at the same time, and called her Yamada a few times.

“There’s something fishy about Kishimoto, that’s all I’m saying,” Yabe said disdainfully, as they stepped off the apartment’s steep stairwell and onto the sidewalk. The apartment was a bust. What a waste of a beautiful day.

“Nonsense, he’s just a lost boy,” Yamaguchi replied, bristling at Yabe’s bald-faced accusations.

“You don’t know what I know.”

“What _do_ you know?”

“Sorry, need to know only,” Yabe sniffed in a superior, nose-in-the-air manner.

“I need to know if my student is going to be in danger!”

“Your student _is_ the danger!” Yabe almost yelled. The four people who bullied her student had died, Yabe yelled, from mysterious shenanigans. Her student was now nowhere to be found. Guilty people usually hide themselves.

Sawada watched Yamaguchi clenched and unclenched her fingers. He knew she would’ve decked the lieutenant where he stood if given half the chance.

“Stay out from police business!” the lieutenant warned as he stalked to the nearest police car. But, neither Sawada nor Yamaguchi were ever good at following orders, anyway.

* * * * *

Which was why they found themselves cramped in the back seat of the police car, idling and waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Sawada tried not to laugh at the sight of Yamaguchi slumping down in her seat instinctively, even though she didn’t do anything wrong.

How amusing would it be if someone from the Family were to recognize her and (definitely) arrive at the wrong impression. It made Sawada shudder as well, and he found himself making himself as non-descript as possible. He really didn’t need anyone from Kuroda to storm the police station to try and free her. He also didn’t need anyone from _his_ side of the family think that he’d gone into some kind of trouble again. His father was unbearable enough as it was.

* * *

 

The drive did not take them to the police station.

Sawada marveled at how the familiar grounds of Toudai looked a little bit different from the backseat of a cop car, for some odd reason. Perhaps it’s just a psychological thing, and not grounded in reality at all. After all, the University’s [Red Gate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1001) is as red to an ordinary person as to criminal, right? Not that he’s ever been a criminal, of course.

Across the Sanshiro Pond from his own stomping grounds was the Science Faculty complex. He was not overly familiar with the Science buildings, but he had been there once or twice with Uesugi to draw out Onitamagawa from her grand-uncle’s lab.

They walked past the lab where Onitamagawa could usually be found, and ended up in front of a room with Guest Professor printed neatly on a thick plastic block. Underneath it was a print out of a book cover whose title asked, tritely, “Why Don’t You Do Your Best?” The professor’s face filled almost all of the available space.

“We’ve actually been researching about Kishimoto, ever since the first bullying report came in,” Yabe said, as he knocked on the closed door and waited patiently to be invited in. “We’re going to meet Professor Ueda Jiro, who has helped us in the past, and has been helping us with this case as well.”

The professor who picked a fight with Yamaguchi in front of Shirokin PD building, Sawada remembered. And the door swung open to let him know he was right.

* * * * * 

[The professor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1002) and the two detectives were talking about Kishimoto and a person named Komatsu. Fujiyama-sensei had mentioned that name to them, too, after they saved her from the kidnappers. The name Yamada Naoko cropped up often and he wondered whether Yamaguchi’s doppelganger really looked like her in real life. He listened with half an ear to them talking about shamans, spiritualists and an island in the south of Japan.

“Kishimoto-kun told me he was born in the south islands,” Yamaguchi said. “But he told me he spent the latter years of his childhood in Okinawa, with his aunt and a family obaasan. He moved to Kamiyama at the start of the school year and enrolled at Shirokin.”

“Around the same time we received news that Yamada Naoko is still alive.”

“She was dead?”

“Long story,” Ueda-sensei all but barked at her. He looked apologetic quite quickly, but did not say anything more to her.

Yamaguchi would later tell Sawada that she knew everyone thought her a bit thick when it came to relationships, but she would bet all her savings that there’s something between Ueda and this Yamada Naoko. 

“So, do you know the name of this aunt of his?”

“I’m sure we have her name in the school files. You’ll need to send a formal request to the Principal to look at the records, Lieutenant,” she said. She could snoop for them, but dealing with the police set her on edge. “I think Kishimoto-kun mentioned she worked as an investigative journalist of some sort. That’s why she was never home.” Then she thought it sounded absurd; no one could ever be _that_ busy, she ranted. Poor Kishimoto, she continued, what the aunt did was practically child abandonment!

“And the family obaasan in Okinawa?” Yabe’s sidekick chipped in, scribbling something into police-issue notebook.

“Hmmm…,” she frowned, and Sawada thought it was cute of her. “It sounded like the name of that orangery we visited for the school trip... Azu… Ponzu… Bourbon? Ah… Izumi!” she clicked her fingers in a way that made Sawada almost saw a lightbulb shining above her head. “Haha no Izumi, that’s what Kishimoto called the obaasan.”

Ueda-sensei and Lieutenant Yabe exchanged looks that weirded Sawada out. He exchanged blank looks with Yabe’s perpetually grinning assistant.

“Crap,” Ueda-sensei said at last. 

“And the reporter. No doubt about it… that’s Komatsu Junko,” Yabe said as though he had discovered the secret to the universe, and not a particularly good one. “Although… If we can finally catch her…” Yabe and Akiba exchanged meaningful looks and small fist pumps of victory which could only mean ‘Promotion’.


	11. Pa Pa Pa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1100) for an additional story: The Lawyer Returns.

Sawada had been psyching himself up for what Minami helpfully called “The Temple Ball Groping Festival”. Oddly enough, he was equal parts relieved and disappointed to learn that it was canceled that year. No one really knew why it was cancelled this year, even though the Shrine’s head priest had tried to explain it, and on more than one occasion. Most of the townsfolk saw it as a bad omen to cancel something that had gone on uninterrupted for many centuries, not even the War had stopped it.

They had invited a _shodo_ master from Nagano, instead. Rumors had it that the shodo master imbued her calligraphy with spiritual power. She would be able to write some protection words to keep bad omens and misfortunes away, they reasoned.

Sawada was, on principle, not a very religious or spiritual person. But he had heard enough about placebo effect theories from Onitamagawa that he wouldn’t begrudge the townspeople anything that would give them peace of mind.

He didn’t expect to be roped into the damn thing, however.

He had planned for a nice sleep-in that day, but instead he had to wake up bright and early because everyone had to pitch in to clean the temple before the shodo master’s arrival. Everyone meant everyone—the townspeople, which included the Kuroda family. Which included one Sawada Shin because he was Kuroda-adjacent.

 _Cleanliness is next to godliness_ , was the cryptic text message from the shodo master that the head priest had received the night before.

Morning came too swiftly and it seemed that all the townspeople, to a man, turned out for the temple cleaning event. He even recognized so many Shirokin High School alumni faces, already frowning as they were put to work. Crisp morning air and such an exuberant sight of sleepy men being ordered around by a high-spirited Yamaguchi sent a spike of nostalgia straight to his heart.

He accepted his outdoor broom from the temple priest and set off to work to the background of good-natured grumbling and Yamaguchi’s laughter carried off by the wind.

Ueda-sensei was as tall as he remembered. Even sitting down he was tall. It disconcerted him somehow, and made him think whether he had this tall complex he didn’t know about.

Ever since he began non-dating Yamaguchi, his list of complexes had been growing steadily. He sighed into his tea.

* * *

 

The shodo master was a woman not that much younger than Kuroda-oyabun, he thought, dressed in kimono made from expensive fabric. She looked stately and composed at first, but got completely fired up as she taught the townspeople about calligraphy. The way she lectured people about the formation of words, the importance of words, and the magic behind words—they reminded him of someone he knew very well.

“Sawada,” came a whisper from somewhere behind him.

(think of her, and she will appear)

“Cleaning done?” he asked, inching closer to her. 

“Yep,” Yamaguchi tiptoed so she could look at the shodo teacher from around Sawada’s back. “Saw some of the calligraphy drying out there. Amazing, aren't they?”

He remembered she didn’t really have the best penmanship in the world, despite her prodigious knowledge of kanji characters.

They clapped along together with the rest of the townspeople as the shodo master completed an intricate flourish. The woman looked around the room, smiling and soaking up the praises heaped on her.

Until she froze and dropped her ink-laden brush on her newly-completed calligraphy. “Naoko!” the shodo master called out suddenly, all color drained from her face. 

She ran toward Yamaguchi at surprising speed, and it was only Yamaguchi’s good reflexes that saved her from getting bowled over into the shoji screen behind them. Sawada reached out to grab Yamaguchi’s hand and pulled her away for good measure.

The old woman clutched Yamaguchi for dear life, bawling her eyes out and calling out “Naoko! Naoko!”

Professor Ueda came into the room from nowhere, followed by Yabe and Yabe’s ever-present assistant. The three of them carefully peeled the old lady off a poleaxed Yamaguchi.

_Yes, she looked like Naoko-san. No, she’s really not Naoko-san. No one knows where Naoko-san is. No, really she’s not Naoko-san._

Somehow Sawada should have expected it. With all the shenanigans happening around them lately, he should have expected something like this. There must be a name for it, like Domino Effect or something. Perhaps he should say something, or do something. It would be best, he thought.

But Yamaguchi didn’t let his hand go throughout it all, and he found he could only squeeze her hand reassuringly.

* * * * * 

Yamada Satomi cried a long time. Sawada would learn much later that it was the first time she cried since she received news that her daughter had gone missing overseas. Three years of grief, Sawada would be told, so no wonder Professor Ueda had a hard time calming her down. Sawada still remembered his own mother crying inconsolably when they discovered his older brother had run away from home. And how she cried again when she saw he had came back.

There were sniffles and watery snorts coming from the person standing next to him.

“You’re crying,” Sawada observed quietly, as he passed a clean square of handkerchief for Yamaguchi to blow her nose in. She did without hesitation and pocketed it herself.

“Am not,” she sniffled as they both watched Professor Ueda kindly and patiently explaining everything he could about doppelgangers and Kumiko-not-Naoko to a distraught Yamada Satomi. “I’m just wetting my eyeballs. All the dust must've gotten into them.”

“Just saying that it’s okay if you are.”

“And I’m saying, I’m not,” she said, fishing out the handkerchief to blow out her nose again. “I wish I can say something to her,” she said wistfully. “This is all too sad.”


	12. Manatsu no Giwaku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1200) for additional stories: Uesugi's and Onitamagawa's late-blooming rebellion; Shinohara's story.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

The economy slumped hard over the spring and practically keeled over in the summer. Shirokin’s annual summer trip was canceled because many parents wouldn’t or couldn’t pay for the trip, and the kids would rather take up summer jobs when they could. This summer, Sawada thought, Yamaguchi would be home, instead of gallivanting around the countryside chasing lost schoolchildren. 

He couldn’t concentrate on his exams because he couldn’t stop daydreaming dating scenarios. It was so uncharacteristic of him, to be this unsettled. He had never acted in such a typically besotted manner before that it worried everyone around him.

“Oh my god, you’ve finally snapped, Sawada,” Uesugi smart-mouthed, as they drove away into the literal sunset from the testing center. Kuma had told all three of them to come by the shop for a post-test dinner, and promised to round up their other erstwhile friends. Sawada wondered, not for the first time, when exactly did Uesugi and Onitamagawa become friendly with _his_ friends. Onitamagawa Sayuri took her eyes off the street for a second and looked at him funny from the car’s rear view mirror.

“What's next for you, then?” Onitamagawa’s voice broke through his reverie. Her question was almost drowned out by her aggressive honking when a motorcyclist cut past her.

They had been released from their internship some time before their bar exams. They should've taken it easy after the exams. But no. [These two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1201) were part of a section of society for whom "Taking it Easy" did not compute. Sawada only wondered why he was turning into one of those people, too. As it stood now, though, Sawada was the only one of the three without a replacement job. And with no prospect of one. After years of just floating along in life, maybe his good luck had finally run out. 

Suddenly he felt some dread, an uneasy feeling that jumped out of nowhere and caught him unawares. He ignored his friends, morosely watching the road whizz past and the burnished bronze clouds bobbing overhead. Idly running a thumb down the side of his cellphone. A mail pinged. It was Yamaguchi.

 _You've worked hard,_  she wrote. _I’m sure you aced it as usual. Meet you at the Shrine tomorrow? Got some news._

There’s a big fluffy cloud in the sky, he noted. Lit from behind by the last rays of the setting sun, it looked like silver shot with molten gold filigree. After five years of constantly being thwarted at the kind of dating game that came so naturally (even to the likes of _Ucchi_ ), Sawada thought that all of the waiting might be worth it. Looking at the message and then once more at the clouds bobbing above, he felt his face crack into a grin. His stomach growled, suddenly hungry. His friends laughed.

(the summer of my life has finally arrived)

Or so he thought.

* * *

There was no wind when they met behind the shrine. Everything was deathly still. Sawada was uncharacteristically subdued, and Yamaguchi was swinging between excitement and trepidation.

First, she told him about tonight's grand celebration she had been planning for him at the homestead. Then she told him that Grandfather Kuroda had finally agreed (though grudgingly) to let Sawada do work at one of Kuroda-gumi's front companies’ legal department. In fact, she said, it was one that Shinohara-sensei had started, and peopled by men and women Shinohara-sensei had handpicked. The current Legal Department Head had been Shinohara’s [own protégé](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1101). Good people all around, she gushed.

“You can start Monday, bright and early!”

It would definitely give him enough time to move out of his parents’ home, but not much else.

"Isn’t it great,” Yamaguchi gushed. "It'll be probationary until your exam results come out, and then flexible hours until you complete your mandatory training. Good, right? Anyway... I told Grandpa it's a done deal anyway. It's you were talking about, here!"

Yamaguchi was as oblivious as always, but Sawada knew it a silent challenge from Kuroda-oyabun’s part. One which he fully intended to rise up to and prevail over.

Then, Yamaguchi told him about her summer plans. “It began when Yamada Satomi-sensei mistook me for her lost daughter, remember?”

Sawada nodded, carefully. He really didn’t like where this was going.

“Well, we've been keeping in touch since then, and all us talked about it. Do you remember that thing about who my dad was. It got complicated and Grandpa, Yamada-sensei, Ueda-sensei…” It was, apparently, decided that she was going to go to an island somewhere, to trace her ancestry with that Beanpole-sensei whose dead girlfriend looked like Yamaguchi. Lieutenant Yabe, she said, would apparently be coming along with them, but for a different business. “We’re leaving Saturday.”

It took a while for all the information to sink into his brain.

Yamaguchi’s summer plans involved shady people and remote islands.

Yamaguchi’s summer plans did not include him.

Yamaguchi would be off with some shady people and he would be stuck in the office that Shinohara built.

The anxiety he hadn’t felt since Shinohara-sensei buggered off back to his little hick town came back in full force, Sawada thought viciously.

He knew Yamaguchi was a steadfast person and loved him in her own way, even though she hedged like no one else he had ever met. (And had she ever said the L word to him? He wondered pettily) But Yamaguchi was also someone who appreciated _mature_ men—old, sophisticated, independent, capable men. Like Shinohara-sensei.

However, while he trusted Shinohara-sensei’s sense of honor, he knew next-to-nothing about Professor Beanpole or how he would act around someone who looked like his dead girlfriend.

Onitamagawa had told him all she knew about Ueda Jiro. If Sawada thought that Shinohara-sensei was a capable person, then Onitamagawa made Professor Beanpole sound scarily capable. He wasn’t one to succumb to self-doubt, possessing a rather healthy ego himself, but Sawada’s had heart wilted a little.

Uesugi had gleefully thrown more information oil into Sawada’s fire of doubt and worry. The prosecutor’s office, he had said, often invited Ueda sit as their expert witness. More than that, Ueda had teamed up a couple of times with that Lieutenant Yabe, to uncover some high profile cases, usually…. cult-related mass murder cases. _What the hell has Yamaguchi gotten herself into now?_

* * *

_Friday_.

Sawada didn’t want to think about Yamaguchi’s leaving tomorrow. Thinking made his head ache. Not just from the exams, but also from the drinking. 

(should've said no to that last two cups of sake at least... last ten cups)

He threw his whole concentration into the act of appearing sober enough to pack his things. Noda and the moving crew would be by later to pick them up so he could go collect the keys from the landlady.

The sun was shining like a pickax straight in the eyeballs. He didn’t have much things to pack, since nothing looked important to take with him. His mother had taken one look at his cargo, and decided that she would take over the packing. _Boys_ , she had said affectionately before feeding him like she would never see him again after this day.

He pondered calling Yamaguchi. Maybe she needed help. She’s not the kind of person to pack light for a trip. Maybe he should go over to her place. Make sure she didn’t try to pack up the whole house.

Listlessly, he stared at the phone screen. Did he just sound like a lovelorn heel?

(yes, you did)

And then the screen came to life. He pressed the green ‘accept button’ so fast it hadn’t had time to ring.

“Sawada!”

“Eh.. Yamaguchi?”

“Hey, sorry to call you so suddenly. You must be busy packing, huh?” she asked. Her voice sounded a bit strained to his ears.

“Nah. Just waiting for Noda and his crew to come pick them up. Do you….” he paused, wondering what the courtesy was to invite her to see his new apartment. “Hey, I’m going to pick the keys up from the landlady…. Want to come by and see the apartment?”

He threw propriety into the wind, and…

“Sorry, I can’t.”

…watched it fall like a lead balloon.

“You must be really busy packing for your trip,” he was good at hiding his disappointment. "Don't take the whole house with you."  
  
“Actually…” she sounded sheepish. She hmmm-ed and hawww-ed until he heard the background noise.

“You’re at the airport,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” she sounded like she breathed it out in relief. “Something came up.”

Sawada wasn’t going to hyperventilate. He really wasn’t.

He kept telling himself that, even as Yamaguchi explained things to him, rushed and as quickly as humanly possible. Kishimoto had been kidnapped. And in an odd coincidence, he had been taken to the island she was supposed to go to.

 _Why_? Sawada had asked.

 _I’m sure they told me the reason_ , Yamaguchi had replied. _But I blanked out after the word “kidnapped”._

“So, we’re moving our schedule up,” Yamaguchi said, nevertheless.

Sawada narrowed his eyes, something sounded fishy. “And how do you factor in all of this? Kidnapping is police business!”

“I’m going to save Kishimoto, of course!” She said, brightly. “Anyway, Ueda-sensei and Lieutenant Yabe will be along. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

A chill shot down his spine.

He was sure that her harebrained scheme to go to some far-off island in search of her lost student would be as dangerous as it sounded—what with the involvement of _both_ Ueda and Yabe. He really wanted to help her. Okay, _not_ “help her” per se—she would deck him again if she thought he was being macho again.

Honestly though, he wanted to be there just in case she needed some extra muscle. She could take down a horde by herself, but even she knew that there’s strength and expediency in number. They could come back in time for dinner, for instance. Rather being constantly late for it.

“Anyway… our flight to Okinawa is boarding! I’ll call you when we land!”

* * *

 

He really didn’t want to act like a jealous fishwife, but whenever Yamaguchi called to update him on their progress, he couldn’t help but notice how one particular name got repeated very often. It wasn’t long before whole conversations would be “Ueda-sensei this, Ueda-sensei that.”

“So you’re leaving tonight?” he asked, trying to hide the fear away from his voice, she was getting one step closer to danger. He really had a bad feeling about this. Yamaguchi had arrived in Okinawa late afternoon, and they’re supposed to go on a boat to take them to the island.

“Tomorrow. The sea’s too choppy tonight,” she replied. She sounded as though she’s talking while eating again. “How about you? Did you move okay? How was Noda? What are you going to do over the weekend? Aren’t you excited for work on Monday?”

“Noda’s fine. My mother commandeered the crew. Uchi helped me unpack. Kuma provided stomach fuel. Minami checked furniture integrity. I went and spoke to the Legal Department Head and she said I could have [the week off](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1202) and start work the week after instead. I want to come join you.”

“Shitty brat, haven't I told you before not to act big? I have, haven't I? _Goddamnit, mind your own fucking business_ ,” she was so angry that her words came out like a long drawn out hiss. “Your first day of work and you’re already skipping?!”

“Didn’t you hear me? The Department Head herself gave me the week _off_ …” And it was a genuine grace period, not because of anything to do with Kuroda-Oyabun. The man told him he deserved a week off after five years rushing through law school.

She clicked her tongue in disapproval, and he felt like he was back in high school. “You were never this… this… irresponsible in high school,” Yamaguchi said again. “That’s not a good example you should be setting, is it?”

“Hang on a sec…” he said indignantly.

He knew his words fell on deaf ears when he heard what could be the sound of tables being upturned, crockery being thrown, and houses being flattened in the background. “If you want to act macho in front of me, call back in a hundred years!”

“Wait! Wait!” _Shit!_ “Don’t hang up. Holy shit, Yama _guchi_ , I really mean nothing about it. I know better than to underestimate you, trust me.” He sighed. “I just thought that a summer trip to an island will do me good, you know. I mean, my brain needs to rest!” It wasn’t even a lie. He had almost forgotten what languor felt like after five years of neck-break work. Unlike Uesugi and Onitamagawa, he did _not_ enjoy studying and working.

It still sounded lame even to his ears, but he was praying for Yamaguchi’s benevolence right about now.

“Well…..”

“You know,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, even though his heart was racing like a horse. “I’ve never been to on a proper island holiday before.” Botched school trip to Okinawa notwithstanding, he thought.

“What? _Never?_ ”

“Ye~ah….” He sounded pitiful, even to his ears. Ever since Yamaguchi walked into his life all those years ago, he had learned that ‘shame’ was fine—like wearing a fundoshi in early winter weather was fine, like cosplaying was fine. Like whining was fine. He wouldn’t act this pitiful with anybody else, though. “So, what do you think?”

The protracted silence was deafening, and soul crushing. “Fine, come on over then. If they have a balcony door, I’ll leave it open for you. But come through the front door, once in a while.”

(did she just say that?)

Sawada wondered whether he needed his ears checked, or if he unwittingly swallowed any hallucinogens lately. Maybe stress had really got to him. _Yamaguchi playing the coquette_ , nobody would believe him. It seemed that he was not the only one transformed by this odd relationship; it had changed Yamaguchi as well.

(maybe change is okay)

Yamaguchi was quiet for a long time. It was scary, in a way.

"...I’ll mail you the details okay," she hesitated before adding, "To be honest, I'm glad you're coming... Eh. Anyway, you know, Ueda-sensei…."


	13. Quarrel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1300) for an additional story: Yamaguchi & Ueda's not so awesome island adventure (snippet).

Yamaguchi did send him details, in her highly amusing short-hand.

(amusing, when you’re not the one trying to decipher it.)

Vague descriptions of a harbor, a ship and some unintelligible direction. There was a picture of a hand-drawn map as well, but shaky camerawork, lowlight, and a chicken scratches was of very little help. He really didn’t want to pander to stereotypes, but for a mathematician, Yamaguchi was crap at drawing maps or giving directions.

She also had her GPS on.

(not that it was any help.)

His high school friends wasted no time to claim his apartment as their hanging out space. It was like old times, he grinned, watching Uchi unpack the Playstation with glee. Minami was already making a mess with chip bags and takeaway bowls.

Sawada salvaged a heretofore untouched box of sushi and gyoza to bring to the Kuroda homestead. He had a mission to do. He studiously ignored his friend’s cat calls.

If he had hoped that Yamaguchi would leave word with her own people, he hoped correctly. If he had hoped the word would be intelligible, he hoped wrong.

Kyou-san showed him the text messages that Yamaguchi had left, and they were identical to the ones he received. However, since Kyou-san’s cell phone was an old-model (garishly bejeweled decoden) flip-phone, the picture of Yamaguchi’s handdrawn map was even more unintelligible.

Kuma’s gyoza was a hit however, and he was honestly surprised to learn from Tetsu that they ordered Kuma’s ramen at least once a week at this household.

He traced the deeply-etched grains of the engawa outside the main room, and sighed heavily. He sent a text message to Yamaguchi, but his phone told him it could not be delivered.

He hated it when he felt so helpless.

* * *

Fuji was up to something, Sawada decided, as the dog prowled in front of him on two feet. The damned dog was practicing his kicked puppy look, but it made him look more like Inuzuka when he was transformed. Sawada shuddered.

Then he was told to follow, or at least what Sawada thought was a “follow me” gesture.

The shopping street was eerily quiet, Sawada thought, as he followed Fuji, wondering where everybody was. He hoped that it was not a bad omen. And it was definitely not a tumbleweed blowing by.

* * * * * 

They ended up in front of a big gated house that was surprisingly not so far from his father’s. Perhaps a few blocks or so but to the opposite direction.

Wondering whose house it was, Sawada saw Muta sunning himself on the left gate pillar.

“Is this your house, Muta-san?” Sawada asked, completely ignoring the fact that he might look like a crazy person to the average passersby.

Muta-san ignored him, making Sawada feel doubly crazy. Soon enough, the gate slid open, probably because someone noticed a stranger loitering suspiciously outside the house. Sawada noticed the tell-tale half-sphere of a CCTV camera above the gate.

An old-ish man walked out, and Muta-san jumped easily down to land on the man’s shoulders. It was quite like in those movies, where the man could easily be Blofeld if Muta-san was an Angora.

“Ah Muta-san’s human,” he said before he could stop himself, and cringed. He usually knew more tact than this, even when he didn’t usually use it.

“Ah, Director-General Sawada’s son,” the man replied, not taking affront at all. Sawada mused that perhaps what they said was true about all cat-owning person; or person-owning cat.

* * * * *

“I didn’t know you know Muta.”  

Sawada thought that it was a rhetorical statement so he kept quiet. In any case, he was not about to tell the Chief about his amateur detective hour, with a dog and a cat. Fuji was having a staring match with Muta-san.

He was surprised to learn that the legendary Devil Chief of the Public Safety Bureau, Itou Kimiyasu, was Muta-san’s human, although he had a feeling that he really shouldn’t? Out of all the beings that Fuji had recruited over the years for their amateur detective hour, Muta-san was always the most reliable.

Observing the Chief, Sawada thought that there was indeed truth when people say pets and their humans grow to resemble one another. Not just in appearance it seemed, he noticed, but also in character.

Sawada decided to cut to the chase and asked point blank where he could find Lieutenant Yabe. Chief Itou must’ve known something, but he merely looked suspiciously at Sawada and said nothing.

“Keeping track of individual subordinates is not what I usually do,” the older man said, leaning back in his seat, steepling his fingers.

“But you have a way to find out, right?”

“Who knows these things?” a minute shrug, before he reached for a lit cigarette resting on a crystal ashtray on the round side table next to him.

If it were anyone else, Sawada might have resorted to coercion, or might have had words to say. But here, he was tongue-tied and unsure. He was worried about Yamaguchi, even though he really shouldn’t—she could take care of herself. But who was he kidding? He worried nevertheless.

Muta-san grew tired of his staring contest with Fuji and decided that a rub is in order. He jumped onto Chief Itou’s lap and nudged at a free hand.

“Definitely Blofeld,” Sawada commented and clapped his hand over his mouth.

Fuji shook his head and took a nap by the window.

* * * * *

He left a copy of those hard-won coordinates and map at the Kuroda homestead, just in case they needed to get to their Ojou. The map that Yamaguchi had made looked nothing like the one that Chief Itou gave him.

All’s left for him to do was to wait for his flight out to Okinawa. Then, he’d have to figure out a way to get to the island. He leaned forward in his seat, until his forehead touched his knees. He had sent another message to Yamaguchi, but it was undelivered as well. He sighed… and all but jumped when the phone rang. Heart pumping so fast it almost left his body via his mouth, he pressed the green button without looking.

“Yamaguchi?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” a familiar voice replied.

“Dad.” Sawada tensed and straightened up in his seat.

“When are you going to tell me about this dangerous thing you're doing? Unbelievable. To think that I have to learn about my own son's business from someone else.”

“Did Chief Itou tell you?”

“What do you think?” His dad said harshly. “Yamaguchi Kumiko. She's alway getting you into all sorts of trouble.”

“Dad, don't start,” Sawada bristled and then sighed. “She already chewed me out for going after her.” Neither of them would ever see, much less admit it, but Yamaguchi and his dad were remarkably alike.

His father exhaled loudly. “I wish you'd listen to us once in a while.”

“I'll try to stay out of trouble... I mean, I'll try not to get into any more trouble.” They laughed at the same time.

“Don't make promises you can't keep. Just.... come back safe. Don't make your mother worry so much.”

They exchanged pleasantries and empty talk while he waited for his flight to be announced. He spoke a bit to his mother, and promised to be careful. He spoke to his brother about his new job, and was told that apparently his father already knew about it.

"By the way," his brother's voice dropped to a conspirational whisper. "The other day, I caught him bragging to the Chief Prosecutor about you being a lawyer. The Chief better get ready, he said, for a lot of headaches in the courtroom here on out. Anyway, he'll deny it of course, and you didn't hear it from me, okay?"

* * *

It was way past sundown when he reached the final boat-rental place in his list. They barely looked at the coordinates before turning him away.

At one point, one of the boat-owners let his mouth ran off and mentioned a toupee-wearing police detective who strong-armed them into renting their boat. The boat-owner cooperated, because that’s what good citizens do.

However, Sawada wasn’t a police detective, so he was shit out of luck.

* * * * *

Not having any plans of staying overnight at any Okinawan inn, he ambled aimlessly along the waterline, watching crabbers. He spotted the guy whom they all mistook as Uchiyama all those years ago. Sawada snorted.

Back then, they had help from….

“Brother Uchida!” Sawada called out to the man appeared out of the surf, with a net full of squirming somethings Sawada would rather not know.

* * * * *

But of course Brother Uchida knows a fishing boat that’s going to push off to the same direction as Sawada. It wasn’t going to head that way but the Captain owed Brother Uchida a favor or two.

“It leaves in an hour, though…” Brother Uchida said as he gestured for an underling to get ready. “You better hurry. I’ll have one of my people to send you there, okay?”

Sawada coughed up a ‘thank you’ and pretended that the pat on his back didn’t just push a disc out of his spine.

Brother Uchida’s underling was small built and nimble on a powerful machine. A few minutes in, Sawada realized that Brother Uchida had not been joking. Sawada was not a horse betting man, but Sawada was sure that in another life, this biker would’ve been a Japan Triple Crown holder. Sawada wasn’t a faint-hearted person at all, so he definitely wasn’t going to admit he was clinging onto the biker for dear life.

They were making good time when some idiot jumped in the middle of the road.

They barely managed to avoid hitting the person, and then barely managed to avoid getting wrapped around a lamp post. _These are some amazing skills_ , Sawada thought with some awe, even as his heart was trying to pound its way out of his ribcage.

“What the…” Sawada exclaimed, watching in horror as a limp body was fished clear off the ground by an angry biker.

He thought the jaywalker was familiar. “ _Kishimoto Seiji_!” he exclaimed. “What are you _doing_ here?” Wasn’t he supposed to be a kidnappee? Dragged off to on an island somewhere, to be sacrificed to an angry god or something? Wasn’t he supposed to be where Yamaguchi was heading right now? “I knew there’s something fishy about you!” he yelled.

“Brother Red Lion, you know him?” The biker asked, even as Kishimoto was dropped unceremoniously onto the asphalt.

“Ah… he’s… er… Yamaguchi’s student.” He hoped the name rang a bell.

“Yamaguchi? Yama… guchi… Kumiko?”

Sawada nodded.

“ _Big Sister_ ’s student?”

Sawada nodded again.

“Speaking of Big Sister, where is she?” The helmet came off and Sawada could see that the biker he thought was an exceptionally small boy with manboobs was actually an exceptionally small girl with pretty long hair. He felt like he should apologize hugging her waist during their high-octane ride.

“She’s… on that island I’m trying to get to,” Sawada said instead, fury and fear roiling inside him like molten lava as he watched Kishimoto trying to pick himself off he road. He dearly wished to kick the boy someplace where it would definitely hurt, but he knew he needed the boy to lead him to Yamaguchi.

“ _Oh!_ The boat! Hurry, or we’re going to miss their push off time!” She tugged Sawada back to her fallen bike, before belatedly turning toward Kishimoto who was still laid up on the road. “Oi, _jaywalker_ , you coming or what?” She threw her helmet to Kishimoto—the boy definitely needed it.

“Is it okay, to ride the bike with two of us?” Sawada asked, as he helped a winded Kishimoto up on his feet and into his borrowed helmet. If he gripped the boy harder than he needed to, if he jostled the boy around harsher than he needed to, then nobody was commenting on it.

“Eh, it’s fine, it’s fine!” She revved up the bike’s engine. “Let’s go, you two!"

It was more difficult to maneuver the bike with the three of them on it—with Kishimoto wedged between them—but none of them were thickly built and her skills were aces. The road was long and quiet this time of night, and thankfully there’s no police in sight. All the way, she couldn’t stop gushing about Yamaguchi, even though they had yet to meet. But the legend of Yamaguchi was alive and well among Brother Uchida’s biker gang and even beyond.

“You know,” her voice rose effortlessly above the whine and growl of the engines. Even her excitement was palpable in the relative darkness. “When I heard Shirokin High was going to go co-ed, I actually went to the open house just to meet her. When she beat up them Black Crosses? _Amazing_! Right? _Right?!_ When I heard the plan was scrapped, I joined Brother Uchida’s gang in the hopes of meeting Big Sister, one day. I think she's the most amazing person in the world."

 _You’re not the only one_ , Sawada thought. He prayed that Yamaguchi would be safe in the meanwhile. He let out a loud sigh and squeezed the boy’s shoulder in warning. He could feel the boy flinch away.

* * *

The boat was already pushing off when they arrived, and they had to jump off the pier and swim to the fishing boat, but it was only a short distance. The captain tried to dissuade them from going, but they could not be swayed. So, to the cursed island they went, with the captain grumbling all the way and the boathands acted like they wanted nothing to do with any of this mess.

They got to the island in the small hours; their fishing boat captain scarpered out of there, like a demon was chasing him. Sawada was sure that if they’re not already surrounded by saltwater, the captain and his crew would’ve thrown salt behind them to ward off evil.

Under a sea of stars and an odd-shaped moon, they traipsed an hour across sandy beaches and sheer-drop cliffs, then up a crude staircase carved into the far side of the cliff. The top of the cliff was flat, and he could see houses not far from where he stood, rather out of breath from the set of stairs he had to climb. There’s a bonfire going, flickering and casting eerie shadow across an abandoned row of houses.

“They must already be at the sacred elephant cove,” Kishimoto whispered urgently, and they traced their way back across the plains, down the staircase, and back to almost where they began, just in time for him to watch Yamaguchi being herded into a cave with a pointy stick aimed at her back. There were already people inside the cave and they were shouting at one another.

She had her back to them, so he couldn’t tell if she’s perfectly alright. However, he saw Ueda, Yabe, and Akiba tied to trees near the entrance of the door. Akiba was bruised, Yabe’s toupee was slipping off (and singed around the edges), and Ueda was out cold. There had been times when he arrived too late and she would be injured. This time, Yamaguchi was surrounded by machete, guns, and supernatural curses. Despite his belief in Yamaguchi’s strength, his heart plummeted to his shoes.

“They wanted her to undo the curse put here by an ancestor of Yamada,” Kishimoto explained.

“Yama _guchi_ is not Yamada, idiot,” Sawada griped. “So, you’re saying the cave is cursed?”

“Not really,” Kishimoto answered. “Just that cave door. There’s a curse on the door so people couldn’t get to the treasure behind it.”

(greedy bastards)

“You got Fujiyama kidnapped, you _led_ Yamaguchi into danger, you... you…” Sawada had never known so much rage in his whole life, so much so that words had stopped forming. He inwardly resolved to drown the boy in the next available cove. “After all she’s done for you…” he shook his head. “ _Unbelievable_.” All of those missed date opportunities because of this snot-nosed kid.

“I had _no_ choice!” Kishimoto whisper-shouted. “You don’t know my aunt!” He pointed to someone standing near the cave entrance, waving her arms about and screaming at Yamaguchi who was staring her down. “Wow, I’ve never seen my aunt so furious before. She’s usually really, really composed. Cold blooded and composed, when when she's mad at us. Yankumi must’ve hit a sore spot.”

“Yamaguchi does that to people, sometimes.”

“She has shaman blood, my aunt,” Kishimoto said. “Everyone from Kokumon-to had some supernatural powers. Including my aunt. She’s really dangerous.”

Sawada had to flinch when Kishimoto’s aunt began waving a machete around.

(well, that's dangerous, for sure, spell or no spell)

Suddenly, a slap.

And Kishimoto’s aunt was on the ground.

“Well, Yamaguchi is no shaman,” Sawada said evan as another slap was delivered. “But she’s also dangerous.”

A long time ago, when Sawada was still a snot-nosed student, they had gone to Okinawa for a school trip. Uchi had gone missing, and Yamaguchi had been so angry she went on a slapping rampage. Not one delinquent on their side of Okinawa had been safe. Shin felt rather nostalgic, as he watched Yamaguchi slapping the crap out of her captors. Some, quite literally. Ueda and Yabe watched agog, like they had never seen such a spectacle before. Sawada guessed that whoever Yamada Naoko was, she’s not Yamaguchi Kumiko.

Definitely not Yamaguchi Kumiko. Because the world definitely won’t be able to handle two of them.

* * *

And just like that, it was over.

No one found treasure. But most importantly, no one died, no one bled out, no one had to be saved like any old damsel in distress.

Far ahead of them, Yamaguchi was on one of her famous monologues. He couldn’t exactly hear her, but her body language told him what he needed to know.

“…walk under the full gaze of the Sun…” and just in time for dawn to break over the horizon. Strong or not, gentle or not, wise or otherwise, Yamaguchi did have a good sense of timing and theatrics. Interestingly, the world played along with her. Maybe, Sawada thought, Yamaguchi had shaman powers after all. 

He marveled at how right everything looked to his eyes. For him to see her standing tall, amid pathetic kidnappers on their knees in dogeza, begging for mercy with swollen faces. To see her two pigtails swaying in the morning breeze, her straightbacked stance illuminated by the rising sun beyond.

Pushing down thoughts of how useless he was, in the end, Sawada crept out from behind the bush with Kishimoto in tow. He pulled the boy’s arm harshly, though he stopped short of popping the arm clean off its joint. He was relieved to see Yamaguchi, but he was still mad at Kishimoto. 

A glint of sunlight pinged off her glasses as she turned around. She smiled as she caught sight of him, her stern stance melted into an almost girlish glee as she waved at him.

“Sawada! Sawada!” she called, waving both arms up in the sky like a mad woman. A mad woman he wanted to stand next to, a mad woman he wanted to be better for.

He found himself breaking into a small run.


	14. Mint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1400) for an additional story: Best friends cross oceans for you.
> 
> Alternatively, click on the underlined words to go directly to the specific supplement.

Sunlight and mild weather lasted only a little while. The wind picked up suddenly, the sky darkened, and then it rained. Some of the villagers took it as a bad omen, while Yabe's long-suffering assistant, Akiba, confirmed that it was due to an approaching typhoon. Sea crossings would be suspended until who-knows-when. So, everybody chose to bunk down for the day.

Yamaguchi, for instance, instantly slept like a log. Truth be told, the island was giving him the creeps, so he didn’t know how Yamaguchi could sleep so soundly. But he realized she must’ve been tired after her island adventure. It’s not often that he could watch her sleep. In any case, activity was not as glamorous as it was portrayed in the movies. She snored, snuffled and drooled in her sleeping bag, oblivious to his thoughts.

At a loss of what to do, he crept out of his own sleeping bag and ambled between snoring bodies sleeping where they could around the [irori](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note0402). He fed a few twigs into the fire, and ignored the howling winds rattling against the hut’s wooden frame.

He made his way to where Yabe and Akiba were whispering in the far corner, in front of a makeshift holding cage where they kept the kidnappers under lock and key. The mastermind Komatsu Junko was there, staring at them balefully. Kishimoto was there too—despite Yamaguchi’s protest on behalf of her student—curled up as far away as he could from his aunt.

It used to be a room with proper walls, really, but they had managed to modify it in record time—taking out all the partitions, and putting in vertical wooden beams and bars. Earlier on, Lieutenant Yabe had explained that it was absolutely necessary to do to avoid Houdini-type shenanigans.

“You don’t know how many Houdini-type locked room incidents we had in the past,” Lieutenant Yabe had told him disdainfully. It was clear their faces that there had been many.

Yabe and Akiba were currently hunched over a satellite vid-link, each wrapped in a thick blanket and clutching a steaming cup of something that smelled rather nice. The small square screen did not have the best resolution to begin with, and the weather-disturbed uplink was patchy enough to render the visual almost useless. But he could see that the two police detectives were talking to Chief Itou who seemed to be sitting in a room full of people (or at least Sawada thought he was).

“Ah, young Sawada,” the Chief exclaimed suddenly, voice distorted through tiny speakers.

“Yo!” Sawada said, crouching down next to Akiba, who scooted off a bit.

“Your father sends his regards, he wa..,” Chief Itou’s voice ended abruptly and his face slid off the video link as another familiar face appeared on screen.

“Sawada! You arrived safely!” Onitamagawa exclaimed. “Oh wow! What is up with the [Shaguma](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1402) hairdo suddenly?” She twisted around in her seat. In the small screen, she looked like she’s tipping over.

Uesugi’s face came into view as well, grinning next to her. He look a bit rumpled, like he used to look if he hadn’t had enough sleep. Sawada was a bit disturbed to realize he knew this piece of trivia. “Wow, now you really do look like a shaggy lion,” Uesugi said. Not many people knew his ‘underworld’ nickname, but those who did know tend to make fun of him about it. “What’s up with that?”

Ah yes, he had forgotten the other reason why this island creeped him out so much. He found that the hair on his head had grown uncontrollably within a short span of time, and was showing no signs of slowing down. Thankfully, it seemed that it was only the hair on his head that was affected and nowhere else. But he really would like to get off the island soon. Now that he’s aware of his hair growing in record speed, his scalp started to itch uncontrolably. He sighed and rolled his eyes at his two friends. “How should I know?”

“There must be something that made it grow so fast. Sawada go find it! We could patent it!”

“It’s because of the trees,” Yabe interjected. "Happened before. [Long story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1401)."

"Well that's good then!" she exclaimed. "Can you still remember what kind it was? What part of it? If this happens without you ingesting it..."

“It doesn’t only work on the top of your head! It makes hair grow randomly. Look! Look!” Yabe cut through her rant while he rolled up one trouser leg to reveal one very hairy leg. He rolled up another leg to show that nothing happened there.

Sawada ignored the brewing argument between the scientist and the policeman, and looked around. Sure enough... Ueda-sensei’s hair growth was confined to his sideburns, Komatsu Junko to the tops of her hands, Akiba’s nose hair grew prodigiously, Kishimoto’s eyebrows grew to be like dragon’s mustache. Sundry islanders were growing hairs in different places where there’s follicles. All in all, they looked like something out of a Maurice Sendak illustration book he found all those time ago when he was still working at the bookshop.

Maybe one day, if he ever needed an alternative source of income, he would come to this island and sell razors. He hoped Gillette didn’t discover the island before him.

It seemed that only Yamaguchi was impervious to the tree’s out-of-this-world effects. This fact interested Onitamagawa in a whole different way.

“Anyway,” Onitamagawa said after much of her excitement had settled down to a low thrum. “I’m sending over some stuff, okay?” Onitamagawa said, punctuated by the tick-tick-tick sound of the ticker tape printer next to the screen. They were silent for a while, and Sawada found that the tick-tick-tick-tick sound was mildly soporific to his tired brain. “Look for something like shiso leaves,” Onitamagawa's voice pierced through his musings. 

“What?” he asked, just in case he had heard it wrongly.

“Our research turned up something interesting. Combined with what the police detectives have been able to figure out so far... I absolutely need shiso leaves from that island,” she went on. 

“Excuse me?” 

(it's like talking to a wall)

“Go find some,” Onitamagawa ordered imperiously.

“ _What_?! Right now? Do you know what sort of weather we’re trapped in?” Sawada asked, Yabe and Akiba providing visual cues by nodding furiously.

“Well…. If you can find it, we can cross check with the ones we found at the restaurant,” Onitamagawa said, completely ignoring Sawada’s predicament. After a brief second, “And we might need to find out just _why_ the species could evolve into something lethally poisonous to humans.” Even in the most extreme examples of Galapagos Syndrome, it’s a highly curious anomaly.

Before she could go into another lengthy exposition, she was nudged out of camera by Uesugi. “Looks good on you, hairboy,” Uesugi added nothing of importance to the conversation, as usual. Sawada snorted as he watched the two youngsters being herded out Chief Itou. _Kiddy time over_ , he heard Chief Itou chiding them. Sawada left Yabe and Akiba to their job, and went in search for Onitamagawa’s precious leaves like a pack mule.

* * *

He was soaked to the bone. He wondered why he was stupid enough to go out in this weather. Maybe all this growing hair was sapping his brain off nutrients. Maybe the longer his hair, the more idiotic he became—like a Reverse Intellectual Samson.

“Hey, heard you’re foraging for leaves.”

He was startled by a light squishy pat on his back. He turned around to see Yamaguchi smiling at him in her raincoat and galoshes.

“I brought reinforcement!” She made a taa-daa gesture, and Kishimoto stepped up shyly. “Since he knows the island so well. I think with his help, we can get you out of the typhoon in no time! Right, Kishimoto?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, eager to atone whatever wrongs he had done to Yamaguchi. At this point, Sawada thought, the boy would really do anything if it made Yamaguchi happy.

Yamaguchi yawned and stretched. “Ahhhh~ too bad about the weather.” They ambled leisurely a few paces behind Kishimoto, barely able to see anything in the driving rain. “You know, Sawada,” Yamaguchi ventured conversationally. “I think Kishimoto’s smitten by your friend… Onitamagawa isn’t it?”

“Really?” Sawada asked. Kishimoto would just be another guy in a long line of guys throughout history to fall for an accomplished older woman.

“I think so,” she said, wiping water off her eyes and brows.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Yamaguchi asked.

“Who are you smitten by?”

If it were light and sunny, rather than rainy and windy, Sawada would have seen a prodigious blush rising on Yamaguchi’s face. “What kind of a question is that?”

“A valid one, I think,” he said. It felt like the end of the world, here, as the wind picked up. He took her hands in his, they were wet and squishy and warm. “Hey Kishimoto! Just walk on down and don’t turn around! Don’t look!” Sawada yelled for good measure. The boy didn’t seem like he heard him.

The typhoon made Sawada feel brave. Or maybe it was kismet. It was not the ideal time or place, nor was it the ideal weather for any kinds of soul-searching. But he was done waiting. He had graduated anyway. He’s no longer a student.

He leaned down for that long awaited kiss. The howling wind felled a few trees behind them. They both froze, nary a few milimeters between them. He could feel her warm breath on his lips, and it felt like storm. He could easily close the gap, he thought.

Another tree fell and Kishimoto suddenly appeared next to them, trying to drag both of them back to safety, his long dragon eyebrows flailing in the wind.

Somehow laughter bubbled from within them, all three making an odd scene—two adults cackling gaily into the driving rain as a teenager ran and yelled behind them. It was chaos, everything short of fire and brimstone, but [the world](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1403) did not end.


	15. Special Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than two years since we first started, but definitely less than three... We meet Uetsugi again, where we first began.
> 
> Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8918800#note1500) for an additional story: Ueda's Coda, and a recipe!

Uesugi Ritsu sat in what he now considered to be his corner stool, inside the recently refurbished Kumai’s Ramen. Two years had gone by in a flash and a lot of things had happened. The last time he came here for a graduation party, Hayashisaki had been with him. This time, the brat had conveniently excused himself altogether, to go on a date with a girl he had met on a train. Other than Hayashisaki, Uetsugi realized now just how much he had drifted away from his Aoyama High cohorts, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

Sawada, on the other hand, didn’t seem to drift away from anything, he thought bitterly.

This time, they weren’t celebrating _their_ graduation or any successful passing of any form of exams; they were after all, trainee lawyers, glorified gofers. They were at Kumai's to instead celebrate a ‘graduation in life’: one of Sawada’s delinquent friends—Uchida something or other, was getting engaged.

A petty part of him could not comprehend how a textbook delinquent from the quintessential school for delinquents could get such a refined fiancée from Elise High—long straight black hair, a demure downturned gaze, a serene and secretive smile. He had seen her all over the news lately—a much sought after special effects makeup artist who had a big break in Hollywood recently, what with the spate of Western adaptations of Japanese horror movies.

Sawada plopped next to him, sighing as he checked his phone.

“Where did your girlfriend go?” Uesugi asked. She had given a lengthy speech for the happy couple, cried buckets, hugged everyone's stuffings out, and promptly dashed out of the door.

“Police station,” Sawada answer came quickly and rather offhandedly, one thumb swiping the screen so quickly it looked like he wasn’t even reading anything off it.

“Bailing out another student?” Uesugi couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Not really.” Sawada was one of those people, Uesugi decided, who were economical with their words, obviously a natural-born lawyer if there ever was one. There was a long pause as Sawada continued to swipe up and down his phone, until he froze at one screen and frowned, then smiled. It was fascinating to watch. Uesugi hadn’t fully given up living vicariously through Sawada Shin, after all.

Soon, Sawada was up on his feet. Uesugi watched Sawada gave well-wishes to the happy couple, spoke to some boys, and laughed politely with some girls. Sawada was barely out of the door, loaded up with more food than an army could finish in one sitting, when he made a call. Uesugi could tell that it connected immediately too.

“I know, I know. I’ll be right there.” Uesugi heard Sawada spoke hurriedly, even as his voice grew fainter before disappearing altogether as the door slid shut behind him.

The large shop window was a bit fogged up, but he could see Sawada walking away, nodding and laughing into the phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder.

Uesugi looked down and found his beer bottle sitting forlorn and empty next to his half-finished bowl of charsiu ramen. At the other end of the table, Sawada’s abandoned oolong highball was sweating rather nonchalantly onto the formica table, next to an uneaten bowl of edamame. _What a waste,_ Uesugi thought, claiming the food and drink as his own. Uesugi threw back half a glass in one go, coughed a little, and wondered about older women and love. Peeling off an edamame, he thought maybe he should give it a try.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would ask his Training Instructor out for lunch.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My greatest thanks to Izilen for the opportunity, and for the extra-special DYW letters (Yes, all of them). It's an honor to be able to know you (a little bit) through your letters, and to receive great joy while reading them. I truly enjoyed the process with your guidance, (and I really really really hope that this crossover and this voice is okay) and I hope and pray that at least one-tenth of it hits the mark... 
> 
> Thank you, my long-suffering betas, please look for prezzies under the tree. All mistakes you see are mine. When the fic came back from the betas, it was perfect. But I kept removing and redoing this gift's bow, removing and resealing the tape around this gift, it might be a bit crumpled around the edges now.
> 
> In any case, I hope that your Yuletide remains bright and beautiful!


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